


invisible string

by casualsaturdays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Episode: s15e20 Carry On - Barn Scene, Fix-It of Sorts, Grief/Mourning, POV Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean Winchester, canon MCD, canon-typical suicidality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualsaturdays/pseuds/casualsaturdays
Summary: "Cas had called it a profound bond. Dean just didn’t realize it went both ways. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone, apparently. And its absence is certainly profound."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	invisible string

_Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons_   
_One single thread of gold tied me to you_

_\---_

When Dean was raised from Hell, it felt like there was a screw loose. A live wire in his brain, constantly humming against his skull.

He could tune it out most of the time, in the way that your brain filters out how your clothes feel against your skin, or the white noise of a fan thrumming.

It isn’t until the hum goes quiet as Cas’ grace burns in his eyes, Lucifer’s blade through his chest, that Dean makes the connection.

Kneeling beside Cas’ body, seeing his wings scorched into the earth, feeling the oppressive silence overwhelm his brain, Dean knows that Cas is really gone. This time is different.

Cas had called it a _profound bond_. Dean just didn’t realize it went both ways. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone, apparently. And its absence is certainly profound.

The emptiness in his head feels like a missing limb, and truthfully Dean would give his right arm to feel that hum again. To feel his connection with Cas again.

He prays to Chuck. Begs, really. He yells his prayers into the sky until his voice is hoarse and his cheeks are wet. He whispers a quiet mantra of _please, just bring him_ _back_ into his pillow, on the nights that he makes it back to his bed before passing out. Into the mirror, hands clutching the sink, barely able to stay upright, not able to meet his own eyes in the reflection. Into every bottle, every glass, every sip, a morbid perversion of saying grace before a meal.

Dean manages like this for a couple weeks, alive in only the most narrow sense of the word – his heart continues beating despite the ache, his lungs breathing despite the crushing weight on his chest, but the quiet in his head, the constant reminder of what he’s lost, it consumes everything else.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, really, when he gets pushed over the edge. If he’s being honest, a rarity these days, it wouldn’t have taken much more than a stiff breeze to get him over the ledge he’s been inching towards since that night. A dead kid on a case gone wrong is more than enough.

A decade ago, Dean went down kicking and screaming, fighting for his life tooth and nail. Now, on the edge of death by his own hand, he’s about ready to beg to not be sent back. Heaven would be a nice upside, sure, but he’s been to Hell; he’d take either over more of the same.

But since when does Dean get what he wants.

Coming to, gasping for air, each breath leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. A breath he doesn’t deserve, doesn’t want, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. What else is new.

It’s not until a few hours later, on the drive back to the bunker, that Dean feels it. Quiet, at first, but getting louder. Maybe this is what it feels like to go crazy, his brain creating the sensation he’s been desperately missing.

But when his phone rings moments later, that familiar voice on the other end, there’s no doubt in Dean’s mind that this is the real deal.

Seeing Cas in person again after the longest two weeks of his life, Dean pulls the angel into a hug, desperately grasping at his familiar trench coat, his shoulder, his face, afraid that if he lets go Cas will slip back through his fingers. Cas is home, he’s home.

* * *

The second time it happens, it takes everything in Dean to keep himself together. Every last ounce of will, of fight, of spite, of anger. Even still, he can barely get out of bed.

Just long enough, he tells himself. He just has to keep going long enough to defeat Chuck, to restore the world, to get back everyone Chuck wiped out with a snap.

He’s not under any delusions. He knows that Cas isn’t coming back this time. Even if they did get Chuck to bring back everyone he snapped away, Cas was taken by the Empty, not by Chuck, and Chuck isn’t exactly doing them any favors these days.

When he gets the phone call this time, _Dean, I’m here, I’m hurt, let me in_ , there’s no buzz accompanying it, but the last flicker of hope Dean has compels him to act. Of course that hope is crushed, making it that much more difficult to keep on keeping on, to see this through. Of course Dean still doesn’t have a choice in the matter, not as long as Chuck is out there, pulling the strings.

And they do it. Somehow, they pull it off. They defeat Chuck, they bring the people back, they come out on top.

Jack is now the Almighty, and even he doesn’t mention Cas, doesn’t offer to bring him back, to try.

Dean’s fate is sealed, this time not by Chuck, or Billie, angels or demons, or anyone but himself.

That knowledge brings him more peace than he’s felt in a long while.

There’s a clock hanging over his head, so Dean makes the most of the time he has left. He eats some pie, saves some kids, kills some vamps. And if he’s more reckless than usual, loses his weapon, pulls his punches, lets himself get tossed around without trying all that hard to defend himself, Sam doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t notice when Dean get shoved against a support beam, a piece of rebar stabbing into his back. He certainly doesn’t notice the glimpse of a smile, the relief that washes over Dean in a split second.

Sam was there last time, when Cas was gone. He saw first-hand how poorly Dean handled the loss, the grief. Dean doesn’t need to say that this is what he wants, not in so many words, but he needs to be sure that Sam won’t try to bring him back.

So he tells Sam what he needs to hear. He says goodbye.


End file.
